


Until You Laugh

by feather_aesthetic



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, tickle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feather_aesthetic/pseuds/feather_aesthetic
Summary: “This is why I don’t tell you things!” she pouted.  “You just make fun of me!”“Aww, you know I love you,” Sara said, turning the arm trapped under Nyssa until she could gently poke her in the side.  Sara’s laughter dried up in an instant when she felt the muscles of Nyssa’s stomach contract beneath her touch.  “Are you okay?”  Her voice was filled with concern, and Nyssa resisted the urge to laugh at Sara’s sudden change in tone.“I’m fine, Sara.”





	Until You Laugh

Nyssa and Sara lay side by side on their backs on Nyssa’s bed, staring at the ceiling in the dimly lit room. Sara’s right arm was stretched across the blanket, ensnared beneath Nyssa’s lower back, with only her hand up to her wrist poking out from Nyssa’s right side. Neither one seemed to want to disturb the comfortable silence in the room. They listened to each other's’ steady breathing instead, still reassuring themselves of each other's’ existence, even after all those years. Sara sighed.

“How was your mission?” Sara bit her lip.

“She was pregnant,” Sara whispered. Nyssa smoothed Sara’s hair soothingly with the hand resting next to Sara’s head.

“It had to be done,” she whispered back. “She betrayed the League.” Sara sighed again. 

“I know.” Then in an effort to change the subject, “How was your mission?” Sara could feel Nyssa starting to blush. Nyssa’s mission had been the easier of the two, however it had been the only one to be utterly humiliating. Nyssa had stagnated for weeks in Nanda Parbat, moping with boredom while Sara was occupied with her mission and practically begging her father for a mission to keep her attention. Her father, finally fed up with her nagging, sent her on a low-profile mission usually reserved for lower-ranking or newer agents just to get her out of his hair. She may have been a bit too aggressive in her nagging, however, as her father had taken a perverse pleasure in informing her of her task. Sara snickered. 

“Well? Tell me all about it!” Nyssa remained silent. “C’mon, I’ve never been to a gay bar in my life and I probably never will, at least tell me what that was like if you’re too embarrassed to talk about how you cross-dressed to get into the gay bar!” Nyssa flushed.

“I am not embarrassed!” she half whined.

“Mmh hmm,” Sara teased, “Says the woman who can’t stop blushing.”

“I’m not embarrassed!”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it! Tell me about your mission!”

“Fine! Fine.” Nyssa took a deep breath and began. “So I went into the bar, dressed as a man, obviously, and-”

“I still can’t believe anyone could mistake you for a man,” Sara interjected. Nyssa grinned at the blond fondly. “I mean, your body, sure,” she continued, “but you act far too manly to ever be gay.” Nyssa’s fond expression changed to one of faux shock and outrage.

“Hey!” She pulled the hand that was still absently petting Sara’s hair back to lightly punch her shoulder. Sara chuckled softly.

“Please, continue,” she sighed, snuggling in closer to Nyssa. Nyssa, for her part, rolled her eyes but obliged her partner.

“I was dressed as a man, and I saw my target almost immediately. He was surrounded by 5 bodyguards, all of whom looked both very straight and very uncomfortable.” Sara huffed amusedly at the mental image. Nyssa continued, telling how she was supposed to seduce her target, get him alone, and wound him, not fatally, just enough to send the right people a message. Of course, missions never go as planned, and Nyssa had found herself fighting her way out of a bar filled with angry gay men after her target pulled her wig off. Nyssa’s storytelling skills were matched only by her combat skills, and Sara was in tears of laughter by the time Nyssa finished relaying the rest of her mission to her. Several minutes later, Sara was still going strong with no signs of letting up, and Nyssa was mildly annoyed with her.

“This is why I don’t tell you things!” she pouted. “You just make fun of me!”

“Aww, you know I love you,” Sara said, turning the arm trapped under Nyssa until she could gently poke her in the side. Sara’s laughter dried up in an instant when she felt the muscles of Nyssa’s stomach contract beneath her touch. “Are you okay?” Her voice was filled with concern, and Nyssa resisted the urge to laugh at Sara’s sudden change in tone.

“I’m fine, Sara.”

“You weren’t hurt in the fight or anything?”

“Those losers couldn’t hurt me even if I were tied to a chair.” Sara’s lips twisted into a smile, knowing it was the truth.

“Then what’s wrong?” Nyssa rolled her eyes.

“Nothing, Sara!” Sara shook her head.

“Then what was-” Nyssa steeled herself, promising herself she wouldn’t move a muscle, but her resolve failed her when Sara poked her again in the same spot, a little harder than before. Her whole body jolted, her arm twitched downwards from it’s lazy position strewn across the bed and hanging over the edge to protect her side, and her breath audibly caught in her throat. 

“You are hurt!” Sara exclaimed. Nyssa sighed.

“Sara, while your concern for me is both admirable and endearing, I am in no way injured.”

“Then wha- oh.” Sara started to laugh. “I don’t believe it! After all these years, I never even-” Nyssa rolled her eyes. “Nyssa al Ghul, daughter of Ra’s al Ghul, Heir to the Demon,” Nyssa groaned as Sara listed her titles, not liking where Sara was going with the conversation, “you are ticklish!” It was pointless for her to deny it, but she did anyway.

“What a preposterous conclusion!” Sara shook her head.

“No, you are, and I will prove it!” Sara quickly sat up, straddling Nyssa’s hips and pinning both of her wrists to the bed above her head with her left hand in a single, practiced motion. Nyssa glared up at her partner-turned-tormenter through long lashes but made no effort to break her hold.

“Sara…” she said warningly, but Sara placed her finger over Nyssa’s mouth in a shushing gesture, effectively silencing her.

“If you’re not ticklish, then you have nothing to worry about,” she whispered, grinning. Nyssa made a rather halfhearted attempt at escape before she felt Sara’s hand on her hip. Sara began slowly walking her fingers up Nyssa’s side and then her ribs, fingers pinpointing the weak spots between each bone and landing on them. Nyssa, for her part, clamped down on her lower lip with her teeth, tightened all her muscles, and held her breath. But for all her assassin’s training, Nyssa was like putty in Sara’s gentle hands, helpless as each touch sent a shudder through her body and a squeak to her lips. She managed through some amazing feat to stifle most of the squeaks that fought treacherously to escape, although when Sara found a particularly sensitive spot on the side of her ribs, she couldn’t contain the sound. Sara grinned wickedly at the noise that confirmed her suspicions. She moved the finger currently settled on that one spot between Nyssa’s ribs in a slow circle. Nyssa stiffened even further, slowly arched her back and pushed her head down into the mattress, and curled her toes. She still had some pride left, and she promised herself that she would neither giggle nor squirm. Nyssa couldn’t hold her breath forever, but she was already getting light-headed from holding her breath and the less oxygenated her brain was the harder it was to concentrate on her stoicism. She was also too afraid to release her pent-up breath in case she started giggling, a state that Nyssa knew she would not recover from once she fell to it. Sara removed her hand from Nyssa’s ribs and placed it on the bed beside her, leaning over her partner, blond hair falling over her shoulder. Nyssa took the unexpected break as a chance to shakily release her breath and re-oxygenate her body via several slow, steady breaths. 

“What’s wrong, Nyssa?” Sara teased in a whisper. “Canary got your tongue?” Nyssa poked the aforementioned appendage out at Sara and continued her glaring. Sara grinned even wider and stuck her tongue out at the woman trapped beneath her. Maintaining eye contact, she slowly reached down with her free hand and pulled Nyssa’s shirt up until it was bunched beneath her bra, exposing the smooth skin of her flat stomach. Sara lightly trailed the pads of her fingers down the bare skin of Nyssa’s side, forcing her to suck in a shuddering breath of air. A shiver racked her body, brought on by the rows of tingling sensations Sara’s cool fingers had left behind on her warm stomach. Sara chuckled and started tracing over lines and patterns that only she could see, dragging the tips of her fingers over Nyssa’s exposed torso and leaving behind invisible trails that prickled from the contact. The sensations crawling over Nyssa’s skin were nearly unbearable.

“Sara,” she gasped. Sara glanced up from teasing the rim of Nyssa’s belly button. Nyssa was biting her lip in a desperate attempt at maintaining her dignity. Her eyes transmitted a message that was almost pleading. The corner of Sara’s mouth twitched upwards. Their entire conversation seemed to have been in a whisper, and Sara was unwilling to break the quiet in which she could hear every hitching breath that Nyssa took.

“You know I’m not going to stop until you laugh.”

“You’ll never break me,” Nyssa replied, hoping that the false confidence that she injected into her voice came through in her whispered words. Sara grinned impishly, and in that moment, Nyssa began to lose hope.

“Oh, but I will. You are pinned too securely to move. We have all night,” Sara glanced at the setting sun, “and you yourself taught me the rules of torture. Find a weakness and exploit it, show no forgiveness, be ruthless and merciless and never stop until you get what you want. So you see, Nyssa, I will break you. And I hope for your sake that it doesn’t take all night.” With that, Sarah returned her attention to Nyssa’s gleaming skin.

An hour had passed. Sara was showing no signs of fatigue, if anything, she seemed to gain energy as the time passed. Nyssa wasn’t doing quite as well. Every breath she took was shuddering. Her limbs were tense and beginning to cramp from being clenched for so long. Her back felt like it would be permanently curved from the arched position it was locked in. She slowly clenched and unclenched her fists. The warrior was nearly going crazy from not moving, the desire to squirm almost unbearable. Sara refused to let up for even a second, stroking her soft skin as though it was her only pleasure in the world. She was currently dragging her fingertips across the length of each of Nyssa’s ribs. She gritted her teeth when Sara found a delicate patch of skin there. Sara noticed, and bent down to kiss the spot with feather soft lips. The only thing that could possibly be worse that Sara’s gentle fingers would be a feather. In that moment, Nyssa finally cracked.

“Sara,” she murmured, an edge of laughter coloring her voice.

“Yes, beloved?”

“Know that I will kill you.” Nyssa sounded deadly serious and she was using what Sara had mentally dubbed as her ‘murder voice’, but Sara grinned anyways.

“Are you sure?” Sara teased. “I thought you loved me too much.” She started really tickling Nyssa, wiggling her slim fingers over the pinned woman’s sides. As soon as Nyssa felt those deft fingers dancing over her torso, she knew that she was broken. She practically squealed and fell into a fit of hysterical giggling, squirming desperately in a futile attempt at escape. Sara grinned down at her partner’s squirming form, relishing in the laughter she knew that she had created. Nyssa’s eyes were scrunched adorably from laughing, her mouth split in a smile wider than Sara had ever seen. Remembering with some reluctance that she had promised to stop once Nyssa laughed, Sara finally released her struggling prey, flopping back down next to her.

“You’re cute when you laugh.” Nyssa scowled, and Sara poked her. “Well that’s not as cute. Nyssa caught her hand in an iron grip.

“You forget,” Nyssa began, a wicked edge to her voice, “that I am not the only one who possesses this disadvantage.” Sara wrinkled her brow.

“What do you mean?” Slender, calloused fingers touched the soft spot on her neck behind her ear, and before Sara knew what was happening, her shoulders were scrunched up and she was giggling madly.

“N-nyssa!” Nyssa drew a line from behind her ear to the underside of her chin.

“Yes Sara?” the assassin whispered dangerously. 

“Is it too late to take it back?” Nyssa grinned, teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“It is far too late.” Nyssa didn’t stop until Sara’s laughter echoed throughout the room.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm feather-aesthetic on tumblr, come yell at me or follow for more fics, I publish on there before I do on here so if you like my stuff you'll get it faster on that hellsite


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